for a day, maybe two

there are some photographs I'd like to climb inside and on this grey rainy monday morning, this is one of them.

(taken with the holga and 120 kodak portra 400 speed film, something like three years ago in south texas)

because when people dance

"through time, through the ages, what endures is mostly art. art seems to be everything humankind leaves to its heirs. whether through buildings or books or paintings. or music or movement. or dance. in that sense, I think of a dance performance the most current, the most up-to-date history lesson as it is in a constant relationship with its most recent past and can only happen in the present. dance also somehow doesn't acknowledge borders in the same way as many other art forms. even when certain styles try to limit themselves or work within a frame, the movement of life, its choreography and its needs for flux take over very quickly, allowing certain styles to mingle with others. everything engages with everything naturally. and dance settles only in the space it really belongs to-- that of the ever-changing present.

I believe that dance may be one of the most honest forms of expression for us to cherish. because when people dance, whether in a ballet performance, a hip hop battle, an underground contemporary show or just in a discotheque cutting loose, there are seldom any lies deployed, any masks worn. people reflect each other constantly but when they dance, perhaps what they reflect most is that moment of honesty. by moving like other people, by moving with other people and by watching them move, we can best feel their emotion, think their thoughts and connect to their energy. it is perhaps then that we can get to know and understand them clearly.

I like to think of a dance performance as a celebration of co-existence, a way to give and make space in time for each other. we tend to forget this but the underlying beauty in a performance is that it is primarily the convergence of a mass of people seated one next to the other, all sharing the same moment. there is nothing private about it. a performance is an extremely social experience. all of us assembled for this ritual which is our bond with the performance, our bond with the same present.

and so, in 2012, I wish everyone lots of dance. not to forget all their problems of 2011 but on the contrary-- to tackle them creatively, to dance around them, to find a way to engage with each other and the world. to engage with life as a part of its never-ending choreography. dance to find honesty. and to transmit, to reflect and to celebrate it."

--sidi larbi cherkaoui


(happy international dance day, friends)

(testing testing)

hey, how about a few test shots with the new PX680 color shade cool film? which I took a few weekends ago when that guy I like (yep, the one I'm married to) and I headed downtown for a night at the crystal hotel. that was a good weekend, people. I need a little time machine. is what I need. so I can revisit past adventures and getaways. please, someone invent that. 

(some necessary information, should you feel you need it: above images taken with the polaroid SX-70 and impossible project PX680 beta/test color shade cool film, no ND filter, exposure dial turned all the way dark, temperature in the 60s)

found

so in the process of all the sorting and cleaning and organizing, things have been found. gems have been unearthed. for example, this spectacular john denver 45, which was snatched up at a church basement sale a few years ago. people, I'm not a big john denver fan but daaaaaang. with a sleeve like that, it doesn't really matter.

who knew a record sleeve could bring so much happy? I mean, really. happiness for days.

1983 (and so on and so forth)

not sure what my eighties self would have thought of friday night's all school eighties dance. I mean, I think she probably would have been fascinated. plus maybe a little mortified but mostly fascinated. I can distinctly remember my preteen self wondering, what are future people even going to think of the eighties? we have no style, no real definitive style. we are nothing like the fifties, the sixties, the seventies. what defines us? I just couldn't see it. because I was living it, I guess. I turned ten in 1980, twenty in 1990, so there you go. I am the eighties.

so, friday night I slapped on my (ahem, original) go-go's pins, yanked my hair into a stupid side ponytail (which I never ever ever would have worn back in the day, by the way) and declared my sloppy self properly attired. oh but to see my daughter wearing the clothes I wore a hundred years ago, the colors, the tights, the mess of pins. to see her at the dance standing next to the boy she likes, to see the sweet, awkward way that all played out. the whole scene made me ache. filled me with the sort of longing that can only be described as ridiculous. and so of course I hid behind my camera the whole night, tried to figure out how I really felt about the whole thing. mostly, I felt old. I tried to pretend I didn't but I felt old.

and I wondered what these dances will look like in twenty or thirty years. what will define the style of the millennials? the 2010s? what pieces of clothing will ava save? what will she share with her own children? what will make her laugh? cringe? and will it make her feel as old as I did friday night? probably.

anyway.

I am still wallowing in nostalgia here which means I will be spinning eighties records all week long and maybe watching john hughes films on repeat. it also means I will be treating my eighties self to a little neon because you know, after friday night, she really sort of deserves it.

I'm blaming it on spring

I don't know what happened but something inside me snapped this week and now everything is everywhere. it started with a drawer filled with too many ridiculous things, which I promptly dumped, cleaned and sorted. and then once I started, I couldn't stop. bins, drawers, closets, shelves. I've upended the contents of this house. it's for the best, really. furniture has been rearranged, collections have been switched around and now there's an urge to paint, a really really strong urge to paint.

my desk is maybe the only uncluttered space in the house, which is funny since it's usually the other way around. you know what else? I've done some excellent thinking this week. creatively speaking, things were sort of off the charts there for a couple of days. ideas coming at me left and right, hovering and flashing around my head like lightning bugs. I couldn't write them all down fast enough.

there's still a mountain of work ahead but there's something to be said for momentum, something to be said for making space.

from the weekend

but first, before I dive headlong into the seemingly insurmountable pile of work and the week ahead, a few favorite images from the weekend. responsibilities were shirked, fun was had.

you?

green

green, green is the word over at words to shoot by, a little photographic collaboration I contribute to.


green is a good word for right now. green is everywhere. especially here in the great pacific northwest. what struck me most when we first moved here five years ago was just how deeply green everything was, is. lush carpets of moss cover a wild variety of surfaces here-- slabs of sidewalk, tree branches (sometimes entire trees), rooftops and the occasional abandoned car. we are covered in carpets of tactile green and I have grown to love it.


(the above was shot with a polaroid sx-70, impossible project PX680 color shade film, july 2011)

all I'm saying

is that it's fun to take pictures of people taking pictures.


happy monday, friends.

instant palm springs

I've been thinking of words but the instant photographs from palm springs are much better. again, many thanks to the ace hotel (and all the ace folks involved) for a lovely, unforgettable experience and to my sweet friend nataly who knows how to bring the fun. nataly, who works a flannel caftan better than any woman I know.

there are more images, more words, more details (I squeezed more out of that 48 hours than I thought possible) but I am a girl who takes her time with these sorts of things. you can read a little bit more about my getaway over at shutter sisters and I'll tell you, I am just a little bit excited about returning to the palm springs ace in october for shutter sisters oasis. I'll be doing a little teaching, I'll be doing a little learning, I'll be doing a little happy sun dance. I'll be doing a little bit of everything. I am stoked. and I think there are still a few spots open, if you want to join us.

lastly, I would be remiss if I did not mention the impossible project, who sent my order lickety-split so I would have a few packs of the beautiful new PX 70 color shade film to shoot during my little getaway. I knew palm springs would love the PX 70 film, I just knew it.

chocolate cake

this trip to palm springs, let me tell you what it was like. it was like when someone just shows up at your house with cake. like when you're having a really really horrible day and one of your friends just shows up with cake, just because. and you know you shouldn't eat it but you do because someone was kind enough to bring it and the truth is that you need it. it's gone in a second but it was so good you don't even care.


that's what this trip to palm springs was like. a big fat (unexpected) piece of chocolate cake. many many thanks to the folks at the ace hotel who invited me (and my cameras) down in the first place and to the people in my life who held the fort down while I ran willy nilly in the sunshine for 48 hours.


photographs and details to come, friends.

this weekend

I'll drink fizzy fruity drinks from pretty glasses. I'll throw out the long list of Things That Must Be Done. I'll look for the perfect pair of sandals. then pretend to order them. I'll take a slow meandering walk through my neighborhood. even if it's raining. I'll lay on the big green couch and watch movies with the kids. and not fold laundry. I'll make tracy's killer garlic bread then share it with friends. I'll paint my toes turquoise. I'll daydream about palm springs.

you?

brand spanking new

this is the part where I tell you that I hoard paper. pretty paper, non-pretty paper, wall paper, wrapping paper, found paper. paper paper paper. there are rolls in the basement, scraps in boxes and folders and envelopes. occasionally, they make the pages of the moleskine but today they are front and center-- in the form of a happy new banner. if you are confused, look to the tip top of the page.

just seemed like it was time for a change. time for a pop of color. spring does that to me.

p.s. many many thanks to that guy I love for the help. the truth is that I'd be lost without him.

fifty suns

well, the rain is back. with a vengeance. and when it comes and covers the city like this, I can't help but think about the time ava and I decided to stop complaining and take on the rain.
it was june of 2010 and felt like it had been cold and rainy for months. it hadn't been, of course but it had felt like it and it was june, for pete's sake. june. we were ready for summer so we decided to take matters into our own hands. we gathered the necessary materials (white paper plus every yellow and orange marker, crayon and colored pencil in the house) and drew as many suns as our hands could handle. which turned out to be about fifty. in hindsight, we probably should've used sturdier paper and bigger, brighter markers but it was a spur of the moment kind of project and everyone knows spur of the moment projects are all about using what you have. spur of the moment projects are also all about momentum.

we packed up our sunshine flyers and our rolls of tape and took to the streets of portland, downtown portland.

the plan: bomb the city with sunshine flyers. or try to, at least. here are a few of the places we hit:

a signpost on burnside, just outside powell's books. and then the shelves of the self help section inside. because if you are in the self help section of a book store, you might be a person who would appreciate a little sunshine flyer.

the park, near the rose bushes. rose bushes that greatly benefit from all that portland rain, I realize, but would also benefit from a little sunshine every once in a while.

an abandoned building.

the bathroom of the lobby of the ace hotel.

the secret drawers, where people leave all matters of notes, drawings and letters. did you know the lobby of the ace hotel had secret drawers? well, they do.

the photobooth, of course.

pioneer square.

a construction site.

and then finally, the window of the streetcar on our ride back.

but maybe the best part of the story is this: a few days later, we drove around downtown to see if any of our sunshine flyers were still up. there were a few, though most of them were gone. but as we drove by a phonebooth where we'd intentionally covered up a horrible white supremacist sticker, we spotted a note. I jumped out of the car and the above is what I found.

and so, on this rainy rainy day, this is something to remember, this note that was left for us. this is something to remember, this thing that we did. sometimes sunshine is not so much a big yellow ball in the sky but a state of mind.

there are bags to pack

something has been dangled in front of me and that something is palm springs. as in, a fun little palm springs job/project that was first proposed last august but could not be seriously considered due to circumstances beyond my control. when january rolled around, things finally slowed down and all I could think was: palm springs. palm springs. palm springs. followed by: please happen. please happen. PLEASE LET IT HAPPEN. then, on the coldest, greyest, rainiest, dreariest portland day, right smack dab in the middle of the hoping and the planning and the crossing (the double-crossing, the triple-crossing) of fingers, I walked into my favorite hole in the wall thrift shop and found this. this souvenir plate. I took it as a sign.


but it still didn't seem like something that could (or would) actually happen. I feigned optimism for weeks and was sure it would all fall through. well, it didn't and friends, I'm going. this month. just for a few days, but it will be a few days filled with sunshine (please with the sunshine) and color (I imagine there will be color for daaaaays) and dry heat (omg please with the dry and the heat) and blue skies (wide open, I'm thinking) and who knows what else. and I am just so excited that it's actually happening, I had to share. I could not help myself. there will be photographs, of course. there will be more sharing. I will try not to bubble over, I will try not to gush. I promise. I'll try to keep my head on straight. but the plain truth is that I'm prone to the bubble and gush and my head is already off and spinning.